


Rock Bottom

by alltheselittlethings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Angst, Drugs, F/M, Gen, Highschool AU, M/M, Narry - Freeform, Party, Romance, Sad, Self Harm, Suicide, highschool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:06:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltheselittlethings/pseuds/alltheselittlethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was at absolute rock bottom, no where to go but up, but then Niall came along and dug the hole a little deeper, and Harry fell a little bit more every day.<br/>Excerpt: <br/>-An hour later, when Harry was running down the hallway after Niall and crashing down underneath the boy on a bed, lips pressed hungrily together, He knew that, in the long run, this would either end up really good, or really bad. His money was on the latter. He also knew that he should probably think about this, should probably push the boy off and go home and comfort his mother.</p><p>He ignored that fact, though, and pressed up against Niall, relishing in the moan that escaped the older boy’s lips.</p><p>Thinking could wait until morning.-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock Bottom

Niall and Harry met when Harry was 17 and vulnerable.

He was sad in the way that he wasn’t sure if he was really sad at all, just that he wasn’t _happy_. All the lines blurred together and the things that made him giggle only 2 months prior could barely raise the corner of his lips, puffy from knowing at them with his teeth.

That was the thing about Harry- he hurt himself. It was never intentional, just a guilt thing, a _Harry_ thing. Even when he was small, he would knock a vase over while kicking a football around, and his mother would find himself locked away in his room and hour later, pounding his head mercilessly against the dresser and crying his eyes out. _I broke your vase. You love that vase!_ (They laugh about it now, but Gemma still calls him Dobby sometimes.)

It was just a _Harry_ thing.

He felt bad about everything, his mother’s divorce, Gemma’s recent heartbreak. He felt bad about everything that wasn’t his fault, and he never knew how to handle it. So, he bit his lip. A lot.

All it did was make his already plump lips bigger and pinker, not that anyone else was complaining. It just made him even more attractive. That was another thing about Harry, he didn’t see his beauty. It wasn’t the type that outshines everyone else, nor the kind that hides in the corner and only appears to the worthy people. It was the sort of beauty that came with not only a pretty face, but a pretty heart and a beautiful mind. It was the shine in his eyes, the bounce in his step. It was everything, all the little _Harry_ things that made him who he was, and consequently made him _beautiful_.

But the more guilt was piled onto his scrawny shoulders, the more he hurt himself, the more his doe eyes dulled, the less beautiful he became.

It was a vicious cycle.

The reflection in the mirror got worse and worse every day, every _minute_ that he suffered. His hair became limp and lifeless, people stopped complimenting it. His smile became more guarded, and people stopped coming to him for laughs at school. The one thing he needed- the cure to this- was a little bit of happiness. But, unfortunately, the cycle didn’t work like that. It only pulled him in, and he disliked himself a little more every day, which, in turn, made him a little bit less beautiful.

He met Niall at a party, and was immediately infatuated with the way his smile lit up his eyes.

“Harry…” his mother murmured, knocking on the door lightly. He ignored her, turning over in bed and covering his ears. She sighed, and there were a few moments of silence before her footsteps echoed in the silence, getting quieter, and she closed herself into her own room to cry, probably. That’s all she did nowadays, cry.

Before he was really aware of what he was doing, he was opening the front door silently and sprinting down the sidewalk.

He ended up in front of a large house, lit up and practically bursting with people and music. He recalled the bottle blonde in the seat across from him in geometry babbling about how this party was going to be “abso-fucking-lutely amazing!!” and really, he could go for some alcohol.

He shoved his way through the suffocating crowd of sweaty bodies and roaming hands, ending up in the kitchen, smile tugging his lips when he spotted a full cooler of beer. He tripped over his own feet in the haste to reach the box, and eagerly pulled one out and cracked it open, sighing when the cool liquid hit the back of his throat as he chugged it down.

“Hey mate, slow down!” an amused chuckle came from Harry’s left and he spun around, freezing when the most beautiful human being he had ever laid eyes on grinned at him drunkenly. He choked on the beer in his mouth and covered his lips with his hands as the liquid dribbled out of his lips, face burning red with embarrassment.

“Niall.” The boy giggled, reaching a hand up and wiping the dripping liquid off Harry’s chin, making him freeze.

“Excuse me?”

“My name. It’s Niall.” He said, and tugged a hand through his glowing locks. Harry blushed and looked at his feet.

“Harry.” He practically whispered.

“Alright Harry, wanna dance?” and without even waiting for an answer, Niall tugged on Harry’s hand, leading him into he middle of the mass of people, and spinning him around so his back was pressed against him, grinding slowly.

Any other time, he would protest his innocence and flee the scene, but the alcohol was already taking affect and Niall was just so _pretty._

Niall was every type of beautiful that Harry no longer was, from the tip of his bouncy blonde hair to his eyes that shined like the sky to his squeaky clean Nikes. He was loud and funny and his deep voice dug into Harry’s mind with every word, and he was _perfect._

An hour later, when Harry was running down the hallway after Niall and crashing down underneath the boy on a bed, lips pressed hungrily together, He knew that, in the long run, this would either end up really good, or really bad. His money was on the latter. He also knew that he should probably think about this, should probably push the boy off and go home and comfort his mother.

He ignored that fact, though, and pressed up against Niall, relishing in the moan that escaped the older boy’s lips.

Thinking could wait until morning.


End file.
